Couvade

Main Entry: cou·vade
Pronunciation: kü-'väd
Function: noun
Etymology: French, from Middle French, cowardly inactivity, from cover to sit on, brood over
: a custom in some cultures in which when a child is born the father takes to bed as if bearing the child and submits himself to fasting, purification, or taboos
: sympathetic pregnancy
: a syndrome in which the expectant father experiences weight gain, queasiness, appetite changes, or emotional changes along with his partner

One of the ways pregnancy has impacted our marriage is that Ian and I sense a different level of connectedness. There is, after all, a little critter nestled in my womb that bears half of the genetic material of each of us. This little life would not exist if we didn't have a relationship. That's kinda amazing. So, we connect through our dreams for this little one and what he will grow up to be. We connect as we imagine how the blending of our very different personalities will manifest themselves in our first child. We also connect to some degree in our physical symptomology. Yep...Ian may have come down with a mild form of couvade.

It was rather interesting during the first 4 months. My OB told me he wanted me to gain 10 lbs in the first 20 weeks, then 1 lb a week after that. So now at 32 weeks I'm right on target - with 22 lbs of weight gain. I worked really hard at it the first 10 lbs. Because I have a history of high metabolism, I knew I'd have to make an effort to change my eating habits. And for those first 10 lbs, Ian was right with me. He says it was because he didn't want me to feel lonely as I added breakfast and two snack periods to my daily schedule. When I started experiencing a strong desire for Chik-Fil-A sandwiches, he was also right there with me, proactively planning detours to get to the nearest Chik-Fil-A. What a considerate husband. Now he says the weight gain and appetite changes are because he's been working out more and has gained more muscle weight. Does it sound like couvade?

Then toward the end of the second trimester, my belly started growing and my skin started stretching. I started to experience pretty severe itchiness and skin irritation. I had the mother of all rashes. It was mainly on my abdomen, but my legs and upper arms were also affected. In fact, I scratched so hard, I created some bruises on my legs. I also learned that Benadryl only helps a little bit, and not to take 2 tablets at once. I went down for an unplanned 4-hour afternoon nap after my double dose of Benadryl and Junior got a bit woozy too. Anyway, the day after what we call the "Benadryl incident," Ian started experiencing severe itchiness on his upper arms. So we slathered cocoa butter on my belly and butt and cocoa butter on his arms. I think I once caught him murmuring about how his recent workout regime may have resulted in an unusually fast expansion of his biceps, stretching the skin, but I don't know about that. Does it sound like couvade?

Now in the third trimester, I'm experiencing changes in my sleep patterns. I can't sleep on my back anymore. I have a hard time falling asleep. I wake up one to two times for emergency bathroom runs. Overall, I've become a lighter sleeper. I blogged here before about Ian's unusual middle-of-the-night antics. These antics haven't changed much and still don't bother me much either. But while I've become a lighter sleeper, Ian's become a deeper sleeper. And he's started snoring regularly. But he's hard to wake up. Sometimes I try to lift up his chin to open his airway. He resists, but doesn't wake up. I try to push him onto his side, but usually am not successful (the weight gain, you know). Makes for some restless nights at times. I just wonder why he's become such a heavy sleeper, when I have trouble sleeping. I wonder where couvade is when you really need it.

Clarice

The Alien Within

People frequently ask me if I can feel Junior moving yet. The answer, most resoundingly, is "YES!" I am almost 32 weeks pregnant. Junior is estimated to be 3.75 lbs and 16.19 inches long (according to the interactive pregnancy calendar at www.pregnancy.org).

I first sensed movement in late September. Just a hint of a presence, like the brush of a butterfly's wings. I wasn't even sure of what I was feeling until I was on an airplane from London to LA. There was nothing to do but watch movies, groan about the long journey in cramped quarters, go to the bathroom, and ponder the strange taps on the inside of my belly. Then came the distinct brush that clarified what all the tapping was about. But that was back when Junior weighed just ounces and was only 5 inches long. Back when my womb was like a swimming pool to him in which he could turn flips. It's not quite so spacious for him now.

Now I feel little strokes where I think his arms are, persistent nudges where his head is thought to be located, and near my ribcage - where his feet reside - distinct kicks. Several times a day, he gets the hiccups, which resonate through my belly like the drips of a leaky faucet. Endearing, but a bit annoying. Last week was unusually uncomfortable. I kept feeling this persistent but intermittent pressure at the edge of my right lower rib. On the third day of discomfort, I started massaging the area and pressed in toward my abdomen. I felt some initial resistence, then the pressure was relieved, to be followed by two swift kicks to my fingertips. It seems that Junior likes to use my 12th rib as a foot rest and gets very unhappy when I displace him from his resting place. I'm just wondering where my liver is now that Junior's foot rests there.

Ian and I can now see movement across the surface of my belly when Junior really gets moving, which he does right after meals, when I'm playing the bass, and when Ian and I get ready for our evening prayers. I've heard that later in pregnancy you can actually make out distinct body parts. It's all very strange. I kinda wish I didn't watch all those Alien movies in the 80's and 90's. I can just imagine some alien explosively poking its gnarled head through the surface of my abdomen, hissingly announcing its parasitic invasion. And I suppose for now Junior is a bit alien to me. But this is one alien I will welcome to our family. I look forward to greeting a chocolate-haired, hazel-eyed, little man-child face to face, without the dramatic abdominal explosion. And I look forward to having my rib be my rib again instead of his footrest.

Clarice

Happy New Year!!!

Happy New Year all! Can you believe it's 2006? So much to look forward to this year!

Ian and I had an interesting New Year's celebration. We started New Year's Eve quietly with dinner at home. I spent some time going through my 2005 journal (as is my tradition) to try to figure out some themes upon which to build this coming year. Ian went to the airport to pick up a friend and stopped by another friend's New Year's Eve party on the way home. Around 11:00 PM, two other friends joined us to spend some time praying for the New Year. I'd never done this before, but Mishabomb was inpired by someone else. Honestly, it was a great way to bring in the New Year, inviting God to shape the coming year.

After midnight, we went to my old home to greet some of my old roommates. Then came the hijinks...SandraV can describe the celebratory activities that followed much better than I in words and image. Click on over to see. I can say that it brought to LA an Atlanta tradition for Ian, involving flammable substances.

On New Year's Day, we headed over to my parents' home for another extended clan gathering. This dinner brought together around 25 relatives from both sides of my family.

Yummy Chinese dinner prepared mainly by my mom
One highlight was pulling out the old hymnals and singing good old fashioned hymns, led by my parents and my musical cousins Amy and Bonnie (both single and available), and accompanied by my Aunt Linda.
Entertainment was provided by the children of two different cousins. These kids were just delightful!
Hope your New Year's celebration was just as splendid!

Clarice

Home for the Holidays

We just got back from our Christmas visit to Atlanta. This year we decided to spend Christmas with the Eyres and New Year's with the Laws. It was a lovely time of spending time with the family. This is Christmas Eve dinner with the immediate Eyres, including PapaJohn and MumIvy; Ian's brother Roy and his wife Becky and sons Aidan and Cotter; Elisabeth and her husband Charles. The only ones missing in this picture are me, the photographer, and baby Kaitlyn, Roy and Becky's latest.Here's Grandma Eyre and her latest grandchild, Kaitlyn Hannah Eyre, born November 3.We had a wonderful time enjoying the family and resting. We even got Becky started on her first game of Settlers of Catan. Let the obsession spread to Orlando!!

But probably the happiest event was hearing the news that Rich, Ian's best friend, and his wife Michelle are expecting their first child. We've been praying for them for a year, so this was indeed glad tidings. Juancho will have a little friend to play with in Atlanta, in addition to his cousins.

New Christmas Traditions

This is our first Christmas as a married couple. We thought it would be a time for establishing our own Law-Eyre blended family traditions, but it's actually turned out to be an odd transitional year.

Two years ago, it was business as usual. We were just two single people with mild crushes on each other - not enough to disrupt normal family traditions. So Ian went off to Atlanta for his usual two-week visit, saw a million of his college buddies, engaged in such traditions as midnight Christmas service at the local Baptist church followed by a grease-fest at the Waffle House, his annual burning (a la Viking funeral) of the previous year's Christmas wreath, and the New Year's Eve firing of the potato cannon. And I retired to my parents' home for a week and a half of rest, reading, sleeping, lots of digital cable TV, delicious concoctions of leftovers that my mom brilliantly whips up. And one huge extended-clan Christmas gathering involving 30-40 relatives (yielding the leftovers we eat for the rest of the week).

Last year was a slight modification of the norm. Ian and I were engaged, it was my brother's first married Christmas, and my parents moved to Norco, or what my brother calls Nor-tucky (so named for the abundance of Hay and Seed storefronts on the road leading to the Law homestead). So the occupancy in the Law home was different for Christmas and the environment was different, but we got lots of rest, reading, sleeping, digital cable TV, and another huge extended-clan Christmas gathering, but missed out on the leftovers because we then went to Atlanta. Although we spent much of our time in Atlanta addressing invitations to our wedding, we still indulged in a grease-fest at the Waffle House (followed by a 1 AM session of bowling), the annual burning of the previous year's Christmas wreath, and the New Year's Eve firing of the potato cannon (which I'm realizing might actually be slightly illegal).

But this year feels different. We haven't gone to nearly as many Christmas parties as we used to. We didn't get to participate in the usual roommate traditions, although I did go back to the 5th annual tree-decorating party that started when my former roommates and I first moved into the House on 6th. But we haven't done anything special in our own home, unless you count that fact that I've put all the Christmas cards we've received on display on our dining room table. We haven't even sent out any Christmas cards. It just didn't feel right, considering we haven't finished the thank you notes from our wedding 10 months ago.

And going "home" will be different for both of us. We'll have less time at each family's home. And the parents are making preparations that make it seem like we're guests instead of family members. My parents bought a new queen-sized bed (it's a pillow-top!) and Ian's parents are talking about giving up their master bedroom for us to stay in.

But there is one thing that makes this Christmas particularly poignant, indicating the beginning of new Christmas traditions in 2006 for the Ian Eyre family. I've got this little life growing in me, who kicks and stomps his frustration at the cramped quarters I offer him in my abdominal cavity...this little one who occupies my thoughts and inspires dreams of the ways he might be able to impact his generation positively. And I think of how the Creator of the Universe allowed Himself to be entrapped in someone else's teeny womb for 9 months to emerge in humble circumstances to bring hope and life for generations of people. I feel a sense of awe that I probably couldn't ever grasp before. So I'm not going to worry about not having traditions to start this first year of marriage. Next year will be different. With Juancho's presence, many of the traditions we could indulge in as single people will have to go (no more post-midnight activities - at least not without a baby sitter). But I hope this sense of anticipation, awe, and hope will continue to pervade future Christmases, establishing meaningful new family traditions for us.

Clarice

All I Want for Christmas...

A few weeks ago, one of my former roommates blogged about gift giving. She was pondering her lack of real need compared to the great needs of people around the world. She basically asked people who would normally give her gifts for Christmas not to give her gifts, but instead to channel the funds into causes that would serve the needs of others. She also asked to be released of gift giving from people she would normally give to so she could give more generously to worthy causes. I'm a bit late to the game with only 6 more shopping days until Christmas, but I think I'm with her. I really don't need anything. I mean, there are plenty of things I could want, but that's not the same. The only thing I really urgently desire this year, as I ponder the turbulent events of 2005, is for people to experience the life-transforming presence of Jesus Christ. For that really is the reason for the season, isn't it?

Clarice

Wells Fargo, GLAAD, and Dobson

WARNING: pensive post alert!

I heard something on the Frank Pastore Show Thursday night that I can't quite shake. I think I have to do something about what I heard, but am not quite sure if it's exactly the right move.

In July, Focus on the Family had heard that their bank, Wells Fargo Bank, had established a matching grant to GLAAD (Gay & Lesbian Alliance Against Defamation). Here's the text from GLAAD's website:

“Incredible news: Wells Fargo has offered to help support GLAAD’s fight for equality against the Anti-Gay industry by matching your tax-deductible contribution dollar for dollar.”

I guess Focus on the Family may have taken issue at being labeled as an anti-gay group, being that their primary focus is on the family. News sources indicate that Wells Fargo has never donated to FOTF, despite the fact that they had over $100 million in their accounts. When FOTF went to the bank to ask about the donation, one of their VPs responded:

"We simply made a grant to one of many non-profits Wells Fargo supports in the San Francisco Bay Area," and "Wells Fargo contributes to multiple charities including non-profit agencies Focus on the Family believes in." The bank says "we direct our giving to areas that we believe are important to the future of our nation's vitality and success: community development, education and human services."

Stating that the response was not satisfactory, FOTF decided to pull their accounts from Wells Fargo. In their press release they said:

We at Focus on the Family respect the worth and dignity of every human being. We are not attacking the gay individual, nor are we singling out Wells Fargo employees for censure. We had the opportunity to work with many Wells Fargo staff while in relationship with the bank, and we know firsthand the good job they do. However, we feel that the aggressive agenda of the homosexual movement and its activists is harmful to families, and we believe it is time to stand up and fight that. Our decision is not personal, but principled, and we trust our constituents and others will respect it.

To which GLAAD responded on their website:

"Thankfully, corporate America knows that discriminating against a group of people based on who they love is not only bad for business, it's just plain wrong. More than 80% of Fortune 500 companies have sexual orientation non-discrimination policies. Let's just call this what it is — another attempt by an anti-gay group to try and intimidate companies into not supporting or doing business with gays and lesbians."

So here's my quandry. I've been banking at Wells Fargo for about 8 years. No particular reason for choosing them expect for the fact that the ATM is halfway between my office and the cafeteria, which I frequent about twice a week. Simply put...I'm lazy. Last month, I had been thinking about switching banks. Ian banks at Bank of America and we've been talking about combining accounts somehow. Plus, I had been getting annoyed with my monthly fees. There's the fee I pay to have an interest-bearing savings account. I pay $3 a month to earn roughly 42 cents in interest. And there's the $6.95 monthly fee to pay bills on line to avoid the nine 37 cent stamps I would otherwise have to buy. But now this.

I'm not really big into boycotts. And it doesn't seem as if FOTF has called for one, altough Frank Pastore did. Most boycotts by Christian groups in the past seemed rather juvenile to me. Or they weren't that big of a deal. You know. The Southern Baptist boycott of Disney. How many times a year do you go? Or the boycott of Target because of the Salvation Army thing. OK, I don't go that often anyway. But I pay a lot of useless fees to Wells Fargo. Is this the time to pull my account? What do you think?

Clarice

Peanut-sized? ...Or like Olivia?

This is a picture of my "nephew" and "niece." They're my brother and sister-in-law's pet chihuahuas.


On the left is Peanut (the fat one), who is 13 years old. He's quite a character. He loves to eat. Although he's been taught that he can't eat until the two-legged people have finished, he consistently cries when he's left out of the dinner-time festivities. His tail wags most vigorously when he's eating.

That's Olivia on the right (otherwise known as Deer Dog). She is about 3 years old, originally purchased as a child-bride for Peanut. They now have a more sibling-like relationship. She loves to play. She can spend hours playing catch. She has a favorite purple squeeze toy, but can be satisfied with a tennis ball... or a moth...or a small child.

They were a part of our Thanksgiving celebration with the family. I don't remember why, but their weights came up as a topic of discussion. It turns out that Olivia is 6.5 pounds and Peanut is about 9.5 pounds. It dawned on me that 6.5 to 9.5 pounds is about the weight range of a newborn. The reality of birthing something roughly the size of a chihuahua is rather daunting. I sure hope this little one is closer in weight to Olivia rather than Peanut.

Although, if I really think about it, perhaps the dog head shape would be easier to deliver than an infant head shape. On our last ultrasound, it appeared as if Junior Eyre was starting to take after his father in terms of head shape. That's rather frightening. I mean...look at the size and shape of that dome!!


Clarice

Honeys and Hubbies

We're part of a small group for married couples. We love being a part of this exciting group!! Everyone's been married between 8 months and 5 years so we have a lot to share and a lot to learn from each others. An interesting assemblage of people with an age span of 15 years from youngest to oldest, ethnically diverse, and vocationally diverse - with people working in law, education, public administration, film & television, non-profit... Who would think we could get along? I guess it helps that we all want to build marriages that mirror what God intended for us.

This is our official group picture (we're missing quite a few people, though)
And a shot doing what only happens in married couples groups...

The Flora & Fauna of Cape Town

Our trip to South Africa last September was a journey of discovery. Not only did we learn a bit more about the HIV/AIDS crisis, but we also got to see aspects of nature we don't get to see along the roadside here in Los Angeles, as we did in Cape Town. We thought we'd share some of these discoveries with you.

There were beautiful flowers...
...and animals we often see here at home...
...along with other animals we see here at home...usually defeathered, frozen, and packaged for Thanksgiving.
We also saw familiar animals in unfamiliar locations...
And animals we usually see on the other side of high fences instead of by the roadside. Oh, see the ostriches behind the lone baboon on the right?
Some animals are so commonly encountered, they have special road signs.
Would you believe this? In Africa?
It was quite a trip!

To Live and Die in South Africa

Clarice and I had the opportunity to travel to Cape Town, South Africa in September. I went to work on a motion picture called "The Silent Fall" for Sunrise Productions, a group of displaced filmmakers from Zimbabwe (see www.sunrise.co.za). The story of the film is kind of a micro budget "The Constant Gardener," a crime thriller set in the world of an AIDS orphanage and pharmaceutical tampering.

Travel to Cape Town was an eye opener in two ways; seeing the abject poverty in the townships, which have grown since Apartheid ended as politicians bus in villagers and buy their votes with empty promises.... ...and realizing that the rest of Cape Town is in many ways a gorgeous resort destination like Hawaii. Very much the first world; no need for any immunizations at all. You can even drink water straight out of the tap.

We visited South Africa with pre-conceived notions about the AIDS crisis based on American news and some documentaries we had seen. I'm sure I only know an oversimplified version of the truth. Our friends from Zimbabwe and South Africa had their own opinions of the crisis. I wondered why the Church in Africa doesn't seem to be speaking out on AIDS prevention or sexual fidelity. We learned some very interesting cultural facts that explain this. In Africa, there is a stigma associated with acquiring HIV/AIDS even in the church. Pastors who die of AIDS are reported to die of pneumonia or another symptom of the disease. There is a reluctance to admit that one has HIV/AIDS. However, there is no stigma associated with the behaviors that transmit the disease; promiscuity being the main behavior. In America there is still somewhat of a stigma associated with having sex outside marriage and education about HIV/AIDS is taken very seriously. But in Africa, unless people, and especially the Church, start admiting that HIV/AIDS is a problem, there will be no open dialogue. In Sunrise Productions' "The Silent Fall," the leading lady, an American educated doctor, admits she is HIV+. This was an intentional story element to create discussion about the disease.

Another problem in Africa is the ancient cultural practice of multiple wives. Many tribes have a practice that if a man dies, his brother takes the widow as his wife. Now, if the man who dies gave AIDS to his wife, she will give it to the brother and he will give it to his other wives. Another way AIDS is transmitted is when working men travel to the cites to find employment and take a mistress, apparently an acceptable practice. Also unfortunate is the breakdown of the family caused by these separations. Eventually, AIDS spreads back to the village.

What is the solution? Who will lead in breaking some of the cultural strongholds? What is the Church's responsibility? What about the countries like Zimbabwe that are run by dictators who are in denial of their country's problems?

I'd love to hear from you guys...
Ian

I AM vain after all!!

Today was a big day for me. For the first time since we found out I was pregnant, someone looked at me, pointed to my belly, and asked if I was pregnant. I'm 24 weeks pregnant. That's about 6 months. I'm 2/3 of the way there. I know my belly's expanding. I sense it every time I squeeze into a pair of pants or try to roll over in bed or look in a mirror. But most people have been telling me I don't look pregnant. That makes me feel rather conflicted. Takes me back to my pre-pubescent and teen years.

See, I started out as a healthily chubby toddler. I had a cute little bowling ball of a stomach that started to recede about the time my baby brother's started to grow. After that, I was skinny, skinny, skinny. It was a bit disconcerting. School yard taunts were along the lines of "Hey Olive Oyl, where's Popeye!" or "Where's Clarice? Oh, there you are. I didn't see you when you turned sideways" or "Hey, when it gets windy, do you have to carry weights to keep from blowing away?" And descriptors of me were usually words like skinny, emaciated, bony, stick-like...not really positive. So I grew up with this rather distorted body-image.

Then I grew up. Until a few months ago, my height and weight has roughly matched that of Kate Moss (good thing or bad thing, I don't know). I gained a few curves here or there. And the descriptors changed to words like slender, thin, slim...perhaps a bit more positive. But I'd still get teased on occasion. One friend, who shall remain nameless, once told me that I was skinny enough to be my own birth control. In my mind, I'm still a weakling skinny kid. Conflicted body image. Never thought my weight could be a source of vanity. But recently, I've realized that I AM vain after all. I realized this when I outgrew 80% of my wardrobe, but refused to go maternity shopping. I just haven't felt ready to move on to elastic waistbands yet. So I have my own creative solutions to fool myself into thinking that my figure isn't really changing.



But now the exponential growth of my little one has made me confront how I really feel about my ever expanding belly. I don't know if I like it or if I hate it. I mean, some areas of expansion have been kinda fun (nudge, nudge, wink, wink). But this belly thing is weird. Maybe it's because I'm carrying my weight gain so that people can't tell if I'm pregnant or just consuming a lot of empty calories. So I have bipolar moments. I want to gain weight. I miss being thin again. I want my belly to grow more obviously pregnant. I wish this pressure to gain a pound a week would be over soon. Turns out I actually care about how I look. Maybe that's a good thing after all. I've never been one to exercise. So maybe when all of this belly-expanding is over, I'll really commit to exercising to get my heart and bones healthy. And ultimately, the big belly is worth it. If my belly doesn't grow, then my little one doesn't grow. And I want him to be healthy when he enters this world, because between my genes and Ian's he's already destined to be tall. I just hope he's not overly skinny too. Well, better get back to the kitchen. A nice, weight-gaining, pre-bedtime snack of ice cream awaits me.

Clarice

Junior Eyre....Confirmed Male

Here's an updated picture of Junior at 23 weeks. It's the second ultrasound we've had since the family jewels formed. I went in again because the ultrasound technician couldn't get a good picture of his face. He kept putting his hand over his mouth and nose. Can you believe it? He's probably going to be a thumbsucker! But I'll take care of that before any orthodontic problems emerge. Anyway, she double-checked his gender. This time I got a good view of his twig and berries, which I won't display to preserve his privacy.

We want some help with his name and thought we'd poll for your thoughts. We want him to have a name that is a derivative of John. Ian's dad is essentially the third John. And Ian is Scottish for John. So we want to follow this family tradition of naming the firstborn son John. Plus, we like what it means - "God's gracious gift." He really is a gift to us.

So here are some options from around the world:
Ivan Eyre (Russian)
Jackson or Jaxon Eyre (British)
Juan or Juancho Eyre (Spanish)
Handel or Johannes Eyre (German)
Yuek-Hon or Yue-Han Eyre (Chinese)
Hanus or Honza Eyre (Czeck) - probably not Hanus (Hey, Hanus the anus!!)
Keoni Eyre (Hawaiian)
Ewan Eyre (Welsh)
Gino or Giovanni Eyre (Italian)
Jensen Eyre (Scandanavian)
Jukka Eyre (Finnish)
Jantzen Eyre (Danish)
And of course, there's Sean, Shane, Zane, Jean, Jack...but we're trying for at least 2 syllables to go with the monosyllabic Eyre and trying to avoid anything that sounds like Jane Eyre.

Right now, our favorites are Ivan and Jaxon. What do you think?

Clarice

End of the Spear

Ian and I got to see a special preview of this movie two weeks ago. It's set to open to national audiences on January 20, 2006. My mind has drifted back to this movie a number of times. It's based on the true story of the Waodani (formerly known as the Auca Indians), a tribe in Ecuador that was known to be extremely violent, with 60% of all deaths attributed to homicide. In 1956, five missionary men made friendly contact with them, but were speared to death a couple of days later. A few years later, Rachel Saint, the sister of one of the slain men, and Elisabeth Elliot, the wife of another, went to live with the tribe to bring them the message of Jesus. It was an incredibly powerful movie. I thought it was really well-made and told the story in a very compelling way.

The movie also made me recall a conversation I had with my mom close to a decade ago. I think I was telling her about hearing Elisabeth Elliot speak. My mom told me that she remembered hearing the story of the 1956 killings when she was a kid. And when I was young, she read Elisabeth Elliot's "Through Gates of Splendor." She was so inspired by the story of these missionaries, along with the lives of people like Don Richardson, whose books "Lords of the Earth" and "Peace Child" she had also read. For some reason, I remember her telling me that on reading these amazing stories of courage, she started praying that my brother and I would choose to give our lives to serving mankind in the name of Jesus. I've cherished this thought in my heart for many years. And it's grown more poignant now. The whole time we were watching the movie, my unborn little one kept reminding me of his presence, with little kicks and nudges throughout (and a fairly urgent mid-movie bathroom break). And so I repeat my mom's pattern, inspired by the story of people who were willing to give away their lives to bring the message of Jesus to people who hadn't heard, praying that my little one's life will be used to impact people in a powerful, life-transforming way.

This morning the movie drifted into my mind again as I was in one of my thinking spaces (the shower). But this time a specific scene emerged. Nate Saint, the pilot who flew the 5 men into the Waodani camp, is talking to his son, Steve, before he takes off to make contact with the tribe. Steve is concerned that his dad might be harmed, as the Waodani have been growing increasingly more violent. Nate replies (grossly paraphrased), "We have to go to the Waodani and take our chances. The government knows how violent they have become. If we don't go and tell them about how to live in peace, the government will go in and stop them their way." I've been thinking a lot about world events lately. Beheadings and point-blank shootings of Christian girls in Indonesia. Riots and arson in Paris. Bombings in Jordan. The common theme in these events is a tribe of people who have been growing increasingly more violent. So this morning I started thinking about what Nate Saint said. Is there a greater urgency to go tell the Muslim world about Jesus and how He calls us to live in peace? What am I doing to advance this mission? I just hate to see what will happen if we rely on governments to do it their way.

End of the Spear. January 20, 2006. It's been making me think a lot. I'd love to hear what you think.

Clarice

facial hair

When I was in eighth grade, I had a friend who could grow a full beard. To me, it was a sign of advanced manhood that I wasn't ready for and I was grateful to not be so blessed. However, when my brother started sporting a slight pencil mustache, I was jealous. After all, I am a year and a half older and therefore by my logic should be able to grow facial hair before him. We're both equally ectomorphic and thus fellow late bloomers. I remember the day I proudly showed him my first chest hair and he wasn't impressed. I suppose he beat me to that milestone as well.

My mom once told me, hoping to prepare me for the worst, that there could come a day when my brother might grow taller than me. Somehow, in my young and dumb impressionable mind, I heard her warn me that one day it could be possible for my brother to grow older than me. This confused me for many years.

In any case, I was able to grow a fine Abe Lincoln chinstrap, which I put to the test on the Civil War movie "Andersonville." Twelve weeks of growth was impressive enough to support a pencil in my cheek hair but I still could only sport fuzz on my upper lip. At this point, my upper lip fuzz was invisible to blond in color, my chin was red, and my chops matched my brown hair. It was always embarrassing when the make-up lady had to darken my upper lip.

Over the years I longed to surpass my brother's facial follicle prowess until I noticed that he was losing his forehead hair. I guess the competitive nature he inherited from Dad also meant increased testosterone production compared to me. This explains the cause of my high school anxiety. You'd think I would have the greater testosterone production since I chose to perform movie stunts for my career. Sucks to be him, but then I still couldn't grow a decent mustache on my thirtieth birthday.

Today I am thirty-five and I can finally sport a true man-stache. I'm also thinning heavily on the top and front but my cul-de-sacs have not yet joined completely to form a five-head (bigger than a four-head). Thankfully, I'm married to a woman who doesn't mind the challenges of male-pattern manliness. It's still embarrassing when the make-up lady must darken my scalp so the lights wont reflect off my shiny dome through my thin spots.

There is hope for me. Just a few miles from my house, in Culver City, a storefront proudly advertises three times in large neon letters, "Hair Transplants, $2 per graft." Perhaps each week I can spend a few of my marriage discretionary dollars on the future of my ego.

The war front has suddenly changed. I've recently noticed a small grouping of gray hairs on the left side of my chin. How's a man supposed to win?

Ian

YummyYummyYummyYummy

Before I got married, I knew there would be some things that would be different. I mean...living with a man surely wouldn't be the same experience as my three and a half years in a lovely 1920's era, Spanish-style duplex, living a sorority-like existence with 4 supremely considerate, service-oriented women. So I braced myself for burping, farting, and b.o.....smelly socks and bvd's lying around...the typical things a woman expects from living with a man.

I didn't expect middle of the night awakenings.

It turns out that my husband is rather animated in his sleep. Sometimes I awaken to the bray of a mouth-trumpet or a big sigh of "Aiya!" (the Chinese phrase I stupidly taught him). One time, he shouted out "That's cool!!" and let out a big belly laugh. Another time, he started shivering and kicking and saying "Brrrrr!"

But the best episode was a few days ago. I first woke up because the whole bed was shaking. He was kicking and hugging himself in mirth. I don't know what he was dreaming about, but he kept saying "YummyYummyYummyYummy!!" Then I woke him up because I started laughing.

These middle of the night awakenings have been a surprising delight for me. Going back to sleep isn't a problem at all. And remembering the silly incidences the next day is just as funny. Sometimes I'll be driving home and suddenly remember a particular event and just crack myself up. The laughter I derive from his mid-night escapades is just an extension of the laughter we share in the waking hours. Having someone to laugh with (or at) this much wasn't on my list of non-negotiables when I was considering what kind of man I would want to marry. No, I had some high-falutin spriritual criteria on that list. But, boy, has it made marriage rich. Better than that, it's given me a window into who my husband is. He laughs and makes me laugh because he enjoys life. That's good for someone who's as goal-directed as I can be. And he is secure enough that my laughing at him doesn't bother him at all. No, when he hears my laughter in the middle of the night, he wakes up and asks me to tell him what funny thing he's done.

Well, time to head off to bed. Who knows what his dreams will inspire tonight.

claw

excellence

Pastor Erwin spoke on extraordinary excellence from Phillipians 4:1-9 today. God holds us accountable for what we do with our lives, but doesn't tell us what to do. That in itself is amazing and confusing. How can we know what we should do? Verse 8 holds a key: "whatever" is used six times. Whatever we do is up to us. See also Colossians 3:23. How we do "whatever" must be excellent - that is God's non-negotiable. Calling my current work situation "just a job to pay the bills" is wrong. God has no tolerance for second best and I must work at my job to the highest level of quality that God enable me to give. It's not always easy, that's for sure. So, how can I use my top strengths (self-assurance, activator, maximizer, learner, responsibility) to excel at my job without acting like a know-it-all, to take initiative to contribute to the team, to motivate others to excellence, to make the most of the opportunity to learn on-the-job, to proactively use my time wisely for career advancement as well as reflecting Christ's love to my coworkers? How can I be more aware of my words and actions before I act or react out of my sinful nature and selfish desires? God's daily grace, that's for sure, and daily reliance on Him to love others more than myself.

Ian

blogging?

My wife has disovered blogs and has now decided to create her own. I think it's a great idea, expecially for keeping family and friends informed of our doings. It all seems supremely vulnerable to me, sharing my thoughts with cyberspace. If I talk about work, my coworkers could find out. If I talk about friends, I could misspeak. Seems kinda risky for this risk taker. For now I'll stick to the facts and what I'm learning along the way. I'll gradually figure this thing out and the sorts of topics I want to blog about.

Ian

Junior Eyre

This little critter inspired us to finally start blogging. We got married in February of this year, both of us well-positioned in our 30's, yet only now starting to gain some clarity about how we think God wants us to represent Him vocationally. We talked about having kids. We wanted to have kids. We just thought that we should spend some time building a strong marriage before growing our family. But we told God we would trust Him with the timing, assuming it would be really difficult to get pregnant and that He would heed our strategy to wait at least a year or two before trying. Apparently, the two of us have reproductive magic. Junior (a potentially gender-neutral nickname) is due just after our first anniversary. Or maybe God thought we were ready and knows something more about the right timing than we do. I do know that this changes things A LOT. I thought maybe it would take much longer to adjust to the idea of having a kid so soon, having been the career girl for so long. But, you know, it's a very exciting change. I'm looking forward to this new arrival and the changes he/she will bring. I'm looking forward to tossing my career development plan out the window.

claw

Big Debut!

UPDATE: This is our first post, but we've backdated some content occurring before this date.

With much trepidation, I initiate this blog. It's a strange concept - broadcasting your private thoughts for the public to read. But I guess it's time. It's been almost a year since I started reading blogs. I've learned so much about politics and racial issues and had so many deep thoughts to ponder, prompted by blogging strangers who are becoming my mentors and muses. I don't know that either Ian or I will have any earth-shattering thoughts to offer anyone who should stumble on this blog, but as we celebrate nearly nine months of marriage and await the birth of our first child, we thought we should make a record of the changes in our lives. Plus, we thought it would be a great way to keep in touch with our families and friends across the country. Hi all!! So here we go....

claw